


Two Half Hitches

by typhe



Series: Pact [5]
Category: Valdemar Series - Mercedes Lackey
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BDSM, Hair Brushing, Hand Feeding, M/M, Objectification, Rope Bondage, Submission, Subspace, pwp without sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 07:20:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17504117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/typhe/pseuds/typhe
Summary: (PWP from a Van Lives AU).  Van has recovered since his journey to the Ice Wall, but he and Stef haven't resumed all the activities they enjoyed in the past.  Until now.





	Two Half Hitches

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by something Gildaurel said about a different Van Lives AU: _"I headcanon that with time he would become increasingly more submissive to Stef’s care, feelings, etc."_ This is a standalone kink PWP but it would fit with my ongoing Van Lives AU as well.

Stef's hand covered his, and Van relaxed into the feeling of his lover's fingers stroking the backs of his own, a rough-edged reassurance. There was a dark stain under Stef's fingernails, like a splash of ink. An odd detail, when he'd seemed so poised tonight. His hair was tied neatly, and he was wearing one of his best silk shirts - little touches that maybe only Van would have noticed - and he'd arrived at Van's door with a small satchel that he'd tossed on the ground near his chair, merely saying he had something in there 'for later'.

For once, Van felt disheveled beside him - his hair was wind-tangled and he'd not had time to bathe properly all day. He didn't need to be pristine for Stef, and given the way they were touching, he suspected he would have been unlikely to stay that way anyway. _He tells me I'm vain, but I enjoy making an effort for him._ Though after such a busy day at Court, he admitted it was better to spend what precious time they had together like this.

Stef's hand stilled. He seemed a little hesitant, a little wistful. "I had a thought."

"Out with it, then."

"Things have been so good lately." They had. Van had rarely panicked at a touch in months, nor sunk into detachment. He'd really tried to stay open to Stef even when he felt terrible, and over time those bad spells had become shallower and shorter. They'd been sharing a bed more often than not, and when they hadn't, he'd set a warming-spell for Stef and then let Stef sing him to sleep like a child. He'd made time for long evening walks under the autumn leaves in Companion's Field, and even for one trip to the theatre together. They'd kept close, even through Van's intermittent battles with his memory, and Stef's sometime shakiness about the future. Even their arguments had been more tender. "I miss the games we used to play," Stef told him.

He didn't mean hinds and hounds. "So do I," Van replied, and it struck him that as he'd struggled for months over feeling like he had lost his adequacy as a lover, Stef had sworn to him that everything was fine, and only now they were back to some semblance of their previous habits did his partner admit to any lack. He turned over his hand, and Stef met his eyes, and he felt a knock on another of those doors that he had not realised was barred until Stef dared upon it. Daylight glinted through a hollow knot.

"So..." Stef rubbed his thumb in circles over the heel of Van's hand. "If you ever do want to start again, I'd want to be careful. I wouldn't hurt you, and I wouldn't want sex to be part of it - not at first, anyway." That should have been a relieving prospect, but the thought of it made Van ache. _Gods, what's wrong with me?_ Stef looked away into the fire, unusually bashful. "I keep thinking about restraining you, and playing with your senses. I just miss...having you that way."

"I miss it," Van said softly, watching his profile. Rosy firelit cheeks, his eyelid quivering in the wake of some intense thought. Stef was more of a planner than he would ever be - Van did best as a tactician when he moved quickly, with thought immediately becoming action.

"I'd never want to rush it, or do anything to make it hard for you to trust me. I'm not even sure you would be naked," Stef wondered.

"Isn't that up to you, milord?"

Stef turned to him, his surprise hanging sharp between them. Over long moments, a golden satisfaction dawned in his eyes. "Is it?" He nudged that highly suspicious satchel with his foot. "I did bring a few things. But I thought we'd," and he shook his head.

 _We don't need to talk about it._ He couldn't tear his eyes from Stef's face. _Not another word. I'm all yours._

"Damnitall, yes I do want you naked. Take those off." Stef reached into the bag, and Van tried to eye its contents as he stripped. He lost all inhibitions when Stef spoke like that. "Here are the rules - I told you there'll be no sex, no pain. You're to do everything I say. Don't touch me. Don't talk unless I ask you a question. Understood?"

"Yes, milord," and he felt his tongue held by that promise - he couldn't say more, wouldn't disobey. Stef's casual authority sank into his flesh like a warm balm. He tossed his breeches and underclothes over his chair, and dropped to his knees on the deerskin rug by the fire. That was exactly where he wanted to be. More than a gesture, he opened himself to his lifebonded as much as he could, feeling the tug of Stef's desires, his whims, knowing Stef could sense all of his own.

Stef gave him that look of surprised satisfaction again, and his eyes turned tender. "Van- _ashke_ , I wouldn't have asked you to..." _But you wanted me to._ Stef was so careful, so honourable about his boundaries, and that was why Van wanted to offer himself without them. Stef's head tilted in thought, his loose hair tumbling over his shoulder. "Have I told you lately that you're wonderful? Hold your arms in front of you - I'm going to tie them." He ran a thumb gently through Van's hair, and his touch, his words, felt warmer than fire to Van. To bare his feelings to Stef meant he couldn't shield himself from them either. Van knew his love for Stef, his need for him, and that heavy, perverse comfort he took in relieving his will to his lover's. He presented his arms like an offering.

Stef produced a short length of rope from his bag. He wove it between Vanyel's forearms in an intricate knot, and Van's breath grew tight in his throat. This was...new. Not being bound - Stef had done that before, but with rags or handkerchieves, to a bedpost or in front of his face. But this was artful. It was good, soft rope, not cut from the one Van kept with his travelling packs. Stef was _spoiling_ him. _If I go into his room I'll probably find six other lengths of knotwork he's been practicing on - not that I'd ever doubt his talented hands._ His hair stood on his arms at every touch of Stef's rough callouses. _Gods, how long has he been waiting for this without telling me?_

He looked up as Stef tested his work, feeling the restriction - loose enough for his bloodflow, but too tight to escape. Stef trapped the end of the rope under one leg of his heavy armchair, effectively pinning him in place with his hands out in front of him. "Stay here," muttered Stef, as if Van could have done otherwise. He heard Stef clatter around in his desk, while he knelt bound and obedient upon deerskin, knowing Stef could do as he liked with him...

He felt himself blush across his entire body. Stef laughed softly, close behind him. "Havens, are you embarrased of _that_?" He gestured to Van's flowering erection. "I told you we weren't going to have sex, not that it wouldn't be sexy. Why else would I want to tie you up?" Stef planted a gentle, open-mouthed kiss on his forehead, and buried a hand in his hair. Van's eyes fixed on the swell at the front of his breeches. He couldn't touch it, wasn't allowed. His hands ached in their bonds from wanting to wrap tight around it and feel Stef's cock hot and firm between his fingers. But he didn't need that proof that Stef wanted him. He felt it tight in his veins. Stef wanted him in this feigned captivity that he was free to escape with a mere flick of magic. Wanted to fuck him and had _ruled_ not to. And here he was so depraved, erect and exposed and craving servility and censure, and Stef ate his shame like fire chasing across dry straw. Van stared helplessly into his shadowed green eyes, which had never looked more fiendish.

It was... It _wasn't_ his nightmares of being captive and coerced. This was fantasy, it was freedom. 

Stef's hands moved in his hair, and to his surprise, Van felt the teeth of his comb over his scalp, gently pulling down to the ends of his hair. "Relax," Stef said. Van leaned his head into his touch, hoping that much would be permitted, and Stef murmured and stroked his hair behind the ears, as if Vanyel were a cat he were grooming. "It's been a long day, and you were out riding earlier, weren't you?" He gently worked through another snarl.

"Yes, milord," he mumbled, a sigh escaping him. He felt a pleasure without direction, his scalp soothed and his cock ignored. 

"So let me take care of you." He was so gentle, and Van's memory flashed to other times when Stef had tugged at his hair by the roots - but no - he'd promised no pain, which only made Van long for the sting of it. But he felt _good_ , tension leaving his body through Stef's hands. A few strokes of his bristle-brush, and he felt Stef twist his hair up into a length of ribbon. "You're beautiful. Now could you get your feet out from under you?"

Van obeyed, confused, shifting to sit flush on the rug. Stef tugged his chair off the rope and sat in it, leaving the rope lying loose beside Vanyel as if he were a lazy, leashed animal. Stef reached into his bag and produced another, a little longer. He lifted Van's feet onto his lap, running his hands up them tenderly before crossing the long rope over his ankles.

When he was finished, Van wasn't bound so much as hobbed; his ankles were tied tight with a few inches of rope between them, a long tail of rope behind them. "Now get back on your knees," Stef ordered. Van rolled over, fumbling back into something like his previous position, though his feet were trapped close together now, his knees falling apart in a way that felt wanton. "I'm going to untie your hands, but not for long," he explained. He slipped the knots at his wrists open, and swung Vanyel's hands behind his back. He slipped the rope back around his forearms, weaving it tight, and the knot pulled Van's shoulders back and his elbows close. "I don't want this to hurt," he said, and Van didn't reply. "Does it hurt?" he insisted.

"No, milord," he said. It wasn't comfortable, and his chest stuck out strangely, but it didn't cause him any pain. 

"Good." He tugged something and Van's hands were pulled down tight against his feet, his back sharply straightening. Stef must have drawn the rope that bound his feet through the one that bound his hands. "I don't want to hurt you," he said firmly. Van's breath hitched in his throat. Before, he'd felt exposed - now he was _displayed_ , and obscene, and Stef's hungry eyes dug into his spine. Stef leaned down til his lips touched Vanyel's ear, and he grabbed Van's ass where it rested on his feet. "Good boy," he whispered.

He felt he'd been waiting for those words, and hearing them made everything alright. Stef's approval glowed in him from the depths, through his deepest, most depraved shadows. He had nowhere to turn from it. _He wants me the way that I am. And I want to be that for him._

"You're not hurting, are you?" Stef asked again.

Van shook his head, feeling his emotions close to escaping. He wasn't _allowed_ to tell Stef how he loved him, but he tried to Send it, and Stef stroked his cheek, staring back at him in wonder.

"I love you too, and gods, I've missed seeing you this way. And _ashke_ , I did _not_ plan this well." He turned on his heel and poured a mugful of water from the jug on the table. He passed it from one hand to another in agitation, and set it on the hearth beside Vanyel. "If I was planning this I would have put the kettle on the fire before tying you up. Uh, would you mind heating this to blood-warmth? That's not an order. I can untie your hands if you need -"

"S'fine, I don't mind. M'lord," he added, though it was hard to speak like this. It didn't take much concentration to set the water aquiver with heat, and he smiled up at his flustered partner. Stef was shy of asking him even for such simple magical conveniences, and Van found his awe quite delightful. _He'll put me in_ this _position but he wouldn't dream of commanding my magic._

Stef dipped a finger in the water, and then pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. "Thank you, lover," he said sincerely, and dropped a soft kiss atop Van's head. He dipped the cloth in the cup, and raised it to Vanyel's neck. That was - soothing, in contrast to the strange, bowstring tautness of his limbs. Warm water trickled down his throat. Stef dipped the cloth again, and slid it over Vanyel's shoulders, gentle over the twisted muscles at his collarbone.

Which Stef had twisted.

It didn't _hurt_ , but to be bent like this and cared for like _that_ made Van ache for more of him. He felt soothed, and discomfited, and entirely _possessed_. He was utterly Stef's, would do anything asked of him, obey any demand.

Stef swiped the wet cloth down to his chest, and he groaned. He couldn't evade this. He felt Stef's heady rush of pleasure, and his lover's hand swept from one side to the other, gently brushing the cloth over nipples that suddenly felt hard as iron and sensitive as petals. Water ran down him, trailing past the base of his cock. He arched into Stef's touch, desperate for friction. He wished he could beg Stef to touch him, pull him, suck him, anything, and he _wasn't allowed to_. He couldn't even plead under this torment of softness, rough fingers a layer of cloth away, his voice silenced by an order.

"Breathe," ordered Stef, and he gasped, almost choking as his lungs tried to catch up on the air that he hadn't realised he'd missed. Van closed his eyes and let it happen, let that touch move over his trussed, helpless body. And his cock throbbed like it could erupt at a touch, at a _word_ from his lover, his possessor.

Stef dropped the handkerchief carelessly on the rug, and for long moments he stared at Van, his hands held behind his back. When Van could breathe steady again, Stef reached into his satchel. "I told you I had a treat for you," he said, and he pulled out a knotted, purple-blotched square of cloth from his bag. He perched on the edge of the hearth, and Vanyel turned his head awkwardly so he could see as Stef pulled a blackberry from his package, dark and ripe and as big as the knuckle of his thumb. Smiling, he lifted it to Vanyel's mouth.

Van took it between his lips. It was sharp, sweet and bitter. Stef held up another, inches from his nose, and Van leaned for it, reaching to take it on his tongue. "Well, aren't you eager?" Van smarted with shame, but Stef's smile broadened. "As you should be. I like you eager. Want another?"

"Please, milord."

Stef slipped a blackberry between his teeth and bent to him. Van opened his mouth around it, and their lips met. Sweet, sweet touch of their tongues, rough fingers behind his neck, drawing him close. Stef drew back a mere half-inch, and Van felt a calloused fingertip brush his lips. Another blackberry, and Stef's tongue after it, playing a deep, slick rhythm inside his mouth.

Stef drew back, and Van felt his mouth watering. Stef's lips were bright purple, his eyes dangerously green. "Honestly, I hadn't thought any further than this. There's no natural end, here. How about I untie you and call that the end of it, and we can relax a while?"

"Are you _joking_?"

 

But Stef insisted, and he sat beside Van in their bed, rubbing marigold cream over Van's wrists and singing softly until Van came back to himself. His heart felt exhausted, as if he'd swum a raging river without noticing he had ever left the shore. _Being_ himself was so tiring. But he was no less needy, and Stef was easy to arouse again. Their lovemaking didn't last long, but they had neither complaints nor shame.

Stef stretched out on the pillows afterward, and Van watched dying firelight flicker on the lines of his body. It was delightful to touch him again, to feel free with his body and his expressions of love. 

"You were pretty far gone," Stef said. "I didn't mean to overwhelm you."

"I like being overwhelmed by you. I'd missed it," Van admitted. He'd found it helped to be fully honest with Stef about his feelings and desires, and often it was hard for him, but after what they'd just done, it felt easier than usual to challenge his own reticence. "I kept wanting more from you - wanting all the things you'd said I couldn't have."

"Telling people they can't have things tends to have that effect," Stef mused. "That wasn't why I said that, though."

His face turned into shadow, and Van felt the edge of his wariness. "Do you think I shouldn't want you to hurt me?" he asked.

"No - there's no shame in it - I'm happy that you want to keep going. I just thought -" He turned over abruptly. Van reached for him again anyway, his hand running over the angular curve of Stef's ass. "I said I wouldn't hurt you because I didn't think I _could_ hurt you. Or I thought if I did hurt you, that would make me..."

Van put an arm around him, pulling him close in his arms. "You couldn't ever be like them. I _know_ the difference, love. You're not a monster. You take me away from myself because I _want_ that with _you_. I like being yours," and he felt himself blush again, bowing under that immense feeling.

Stef caught his hand. "Then you are mine," he insisted, and Van felt his deep satisfaction, piercing through his roiling doubts. "I've missed it, and I want more," he admitted. "I'm not ready to hurt you yet, but I'll be thinking about it. Give me time, I'll work up the nerve. Tell me exactly what you want, if you can."

"Are you fishing for bedtime stories?" Van asked, and Stef laughed, radiant with guilt. "Well. I kept wondering if you'd..."


End file.
